Page 12 of About Love and Revenge

God, I can't call him that, or he'll fight me again. I don't want to have to listen to the things he says when he's angry.

“I can get ready real quick,” I reply.

I try to guess what my mother is thinking as she looks at me from the doorway, but I can't. She, like me, has learned to hide her emotions. Also, my parents have been secretive lately. They’ve never talked much to their kids, but lately, every now and then, I catch them whispering to each other.

I don't mind their silence. To tell you the truth, I've gotten used to it, and it even feels weird when people ask me something. When you live with someone who always seems to see a flaw in everything you do or say, you learn to talk as little as possible.

It's not even that hard, because I don't like to talk. Only with myself and inside my head. When I miss listening to other people, I watch my favorite romance movies and cartoons. Besides, I prefer horseback riding—it's what I love to do.

I look back at my mother. She used to smile more. Today she looks like a crushed flower, torn from the stem, slowly dying.

“You don't want to go, do you?”

Instead of answering directly, I reply with another question. “Mother, why are we going to that house? Dad has never been this close to an employee.”

“Odin Lykaios is no longer a servant but one of the most powerful men in the world. You know your father likes to be well-connected.”

“Is that why he sold part of our land to Odin?”

“I really don't know, but that's not a concern for us women. Have you forgotten how annoyed your father gets when we try to talk about his business?”

It's true. For my father, a woman's job is to have children, support her husband, and appear at social events.

I think differently.

Even though I have experience organizing parties here at home, I don't like people very much. At least, not the ones who usually come to our house. It's torture having to talk to our guests. By the end of the night, my face is always tense after giving so many fake smiles.

Anyway, it's still better than being forced to have a husband and a bunch of kids like my sisters.

“You should wear green. It makes your eyes stand out,” she says, pointing to the cream-colored dress on the bed. “Is it possible that you can't choose an outfit for yourself, Elina? What will happen to you when I'm gone?”

My heart starts beating really fast. She just touched on a subject I never allow myself to think about.

Death.

As much as our family is loveless and we haven't grown up attached to each other, I don't like to imagine that one day I'll be alone in the world.

“Don't say that, Mom. You are still very young.”I'm terrified of the idea. When my mother dies, I won't have anyone else.

“Who knows what God has in store for us?” she says.

To mask my fear, I go into my closet. I take out the green dress she suggested, even though I think it's too low-cut. “There you go. Here's the dress you like,” I say, trying to get her to stop talking about such an uncomfortable subject.

“You need to learn to take care of yourself. At least until you find a good man who can provide foryour needs.”

I'm already heading to the bathroom, but I stop and look at her. My mother doesn't think a woman should have a career.

I would like to work. Go to university, study to be a veterinarian, and take care of horses for a living.

Sometimes, I look at pictures in magazines. I love photographs of horses and farms, although I know that the dream of studying them will never go beyond being that—a dream.

“You must wear makeup too. Today there will be many suitors there, and your father said that Sheik Naim will probably come. He's looking for a fourth wife, and it would be a privilege if he chose you.”

“I don't want to get married, least of all to a man who already has three wives. We are orthodox Catholics. How can you say something like that?”

“It doesn't matter what you want. It would be good for the family to attach our surname to someone so powerful. Besides, you're already thirty, Elina. Soon you'll be too old to bear a child.”

“I won't have children.”

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